


In the Warmth of a Bookshop

by Magical_Persona



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After care, M/M, after care fic, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:21:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Persona/pseuds/Magical_Persona
Summary: Crowley doesn't believe he's worthy of being loved, so it's up to one angel to show him.





	In the Warmth of a Bookshop

The angel had very few plush blankets and the ones contained within the bookshop weren’t for him. They were for one very special demon who sat at the corner of a couch. His red hair a stark contrast to the light blue blanket wrapped around him. The way he burrowed into the blanket made Crowley look less like a demon who could, if he wanted, destroy humanity and more like a small child.

Rather than take up as much of the couch as possible he was curled tightly into a ball. The demon had pressed himself into the armrest closest to the fire blazing in the hearth. The  soft material of the blanket was a relief on his bare skin even where it brushed against the bruises from a few minutes before.

This was a routine for them. It had started when Crowley felt he had no place in the world. He toiled in the affairs of man, but he didn’t belong. Back then he had been seeking punishment. Retribution. What he found was an angel. One that was not only capable of loving him, but willing to show him he deserved that love.

What he found was an angel who would lead him to the bedroom and shower him with all the love in the world. Love that Crowley was more than certain he didn’t deserve. He was, after all, a demon. Love wasn’t something he was even sure he could understand anymore. Yet, Aziraphale never held back. The angel let Crowley know just how much he was loved. Not just through action, but words. It was the words that hurt the most. They sent a panging through his heart making it twist in ways Crowley wanted to say were bad. And yet…

“My dear,” Aziraphale’s voice was soft. The angel was dressed in a light night gown and holding two cups of cocoa.

Crowley managed to arrange himself so he could sip the warm drink without the blanket falling from him. He closed his eyes as the warmth from the cup permeated through the cold that had seeped into his bones. He knew he’d never truly be rid of it, but he’d take what he could get to keep it at bay.

Aziraphale sat beside him, leaving little room between them. He wrapped an arm around Crowley, pulling the demon close. Crowley knew what was going to happen. At this point it had become something of a dance. The two would sit in silence, Crowley would get through a few sips of his cocoa before the tears fell.

Then the angel would cradle him. Tell the demon there was nothing to be afraid of. That everything would work out. No one could hurt him here and no one would. Inside this bookshop he was safe.

This was the routine. It had started a long time ago and even after the apocalypse it continued. Each time it would take less time for Crowley to understand he was loved and longer for him to cry. Eventually, there would be a time where Aziraphale didn’t have to say anything (the angel did anyway). Crowley knew he was loved and in turn learned he could love his angel just as well. After Crowley would wrap himself in a blanket and find himself in Aziraphale’s lap being showered with kisses. 


End file.
